


Love Letters

by JavisTG



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: A Candle for the Caribbean, Canon Compliant, F/M, Love Letters, Post-Mockingjay, everlark, growing back together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 21:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13935447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JavisTG/pseuds/JavisTG
Summary: Katniss Everdeen learns about her past as she gets ready to face her future. Everlark. Canon-compliant (mostly), Post Mockingjay, Pre-Epilogue.





	Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Last December, Love in Panem organised A Candle in Panem in an effort to help the victims of Hurricane Maria. Through their efforts, donations were made and people affected by the hurricane received a few things they desperately needed. 
> 
> It was a beautiful cause. I’m proud to have been a part of it. 
> 
> This here was my small contribution. Hope you enjoy!

Katniss steps into her mother’s old bedroom and looks around. It's a lovely room, with lots of natural light and a balcony that looks out into the forest beyond the gates of Victors' Village, but it feels lifeless, abandoned.

 

She approaches the bed. The sight of the frayed yellow bedspread and the picture of her father on the nightstand bring back an avalanche of memories of long-lost happy days spent in her family's tiny house in the Seam. The joy and innocence of her past press on her chest, leaving her raw, crestfallen.

 

Tired of fighting back her sorrow, Katniss covers her face with her hands. Slowly, she lets out all the air from her lungs.

 

Following Dr. Aurelius’s breathing technique, she reminds herself that she’s not there to reminisce about the good old days before the Games, but to move on.

 

It's been months since the war ended and Katniss returned to District 12.

 

In all that time, Mrs. Everdeen has made no sign of wanting to leave District 4. It doesn't make sense to keep an empty room for her any longer --especially when there's a housing shortage in Twelve.

 

Katniss’s first thought was to offer her mother's room to a lodger, but the idea of sharing her home with a stranger made her uncomfortable. Her moods are still dreary and dark, her nights filled with terror.

 

_How will a boarder react when I start screaming in the middle of the night_ , she wondered.

 

When she mentioned her dilemma to Dr. Aurelius, he suggested renting out the entire house and moving to a new place.

 

"You've never been comfortable there," the doctor reminded her, "You've complained more than once about how stuffy and antiquated it is. That house is haunted by the sad memories of your days as a victor, Katniss. Finding a new home will help you heal."

 

It took her a few weeks to make up her mind. There weren't too many alternatives available to her, and she had to figure out how each of them made her feel. Eventually, she reached a decision.

 

Gathering all her courage, she sat Peeta down and asked him if she could move in with him. "As roommates," she immediately clarified, "I could stay in one of your spare rooms and pay rent."

 

Peeta's instant smile was like a soothing balm. "You can choose any room you want," he offered, "we'll clear it out, and you can decorate it however you like."

 

So, there she is, a couple weeks later, emptying her house and getting it ready for the new family that's about to move in.

 

She doesn't know much about them --just that they come from District 5 and that the father will be in charge of laying out the new power lines in District 12. But she doesn't need to know anything else. They need a home. She needs a fresh start. That's all that matters.

 

With quiet determination, she walks to her mother’s dresser and opens the top drawer.

 

An assortment of neatly folded sweaters and blouses comes into view. Some of them are new --probably bought from the tailor, back in the old Merchant Quarter-- but most of them are old and washed-out; clothes they got from the Hob.

 

Gently, she empties the drawer, cradling the clothes in her hands and depositing them in the empty box she brought along for the job.

 

She repeats the process several times until the dresser is empty; then, she moves on to her mother’s wardrobe and pulls the doors open.

 

The small pillow immediately catches her eye.

 

She hasn’t seen it in years, but she recognizes it at once. How could she forget the tattered bundle her mother clutched against her chest in the months that followed her father’s death?

 

Trembling fingers reach inside and grab the pillow.

 

Surprised by how heavy it is, Katniss carries it over to her mother’s bed. She sits down and places the small cushion on her lap.

 

With quiet reverence, Katniss begins to run her fingers along the delicate lace and intricate embroidery that decorate the faded linen. Turning the pillow over, she finds a long slit along the back.

 

Intrigued, she slips her hand into the opening. Her fingers brush against the smooth surface of an envelope. Pulling her hand out, Katniss twists the cushion to widen the gap in the fabric.

 

Her breath catches in her chest as a thick stack of envelopes, concealed inside the pillowcase, spills out.

 

* * *

 

Dear Miss Tate,

 

I hope this letter finds you well.

 

I know we’ve only known each other for a couple of months, but I fear it wouldn’t be right to go on without telling you what’s in my heart.

 

Forgive me if I don’t use sweet words and flowery adjectives to describe this madness that’s taken over my mind, but I respect you far too much to waste your time with tricks and flattery.

 

You’re probably thinking I'm too forward.

 

You're right.

 

I shouldn’t be writing any of this, --and I definitely shouldn’t be giving it to you-- but the truth is that you’ve sparked a fire within me; a beautiful, powerful, maddening fire that overwhelms me and consumes my every thought.

q

I’ve tried fighting it, but it pushes right back, defeating me at every turn. I’m at its mercy, helpless against it and, as much as I’d want to, I can’t keep it hidden any longer.

 

I know that you recently aged-out of the selection process. I must confess that few things have made me happier than watching the relief reflected on your sweet face after your last reaping just a couple of weeks ago.

 

I realize that, unlike me, --a poor miner’s son who’s destined to be no more than a miner himself-- you have prospects ahead of you.

 

In all likelihood, you already have a suitor of your family’s choosing who’s waiting to make you his wife; or maybe even a cherished sweetheart who knows your heart’s secrets and desires.

 

If that is the case, please, ignore my letter. Feel free to dispose of it and never think back on it again. Be with your betrothed, and be happy.

 

But, if your heart isn’t attached, I urge you to hear my words.

 

You are in my mind, Lillian. You are in my heart, in my soul. You are the warmth in my days and the magic in my nights. You are hope, and faith, and longing; my heart’s one true desire.

 

You captured my imagination from the first moment we met, and there’s nothing I can do to set it free.

 

You hold the key to my happiness. I hope with all my heart that you'll allow me to be yours.

 

Faithfully,

Dashiell Everdeen.

 

* * *

 

Katniss presses the creased paper against her chest and tries to fight back the tears pooling in her eyes.

 

It’s been so long since she’s heard her father’s voice that she thought she had forgotten it, but reading his words has suddenly brought him back to her.

 

If she closes her eyes, she can almost see him; smiling at her the way he did every morning when he woke her up for school.

 

She knows she probably shouldn’t read anymore --this is her mother’s private correspondence, after all. She should put it back in the pouch and send it to District 4 along with the rest of her things.

 

But she can’t help herself. Her need to hear her father’s voice once more and reconnect with her past is overwhelming.

 

She reaches for the next letter.

 

* * *

 

My dearest Dash,

 

My family will never accept our plans.

 

Father has told me he won’t be trading with you anymore, and Mother threatened to break all contact with me and disown me if I insisted on pursuing a relationship with you.

 

I’ve cried. I’ve pleaded. I’ve tried to explain. It’s been no use.

 

Their minds are made up. They won’t budge.

 

Surprisingly, the one person who hasn’t turned on me is Terry. He has remained a loyal and true friend through all of this.

 

I can tell his heart is broken. His smiles no longer reach his eyes, but he says he wants me to be happy, and that his parents won’t make a fuss.

 

It turns out that I was his choice --and they were pleased with it-- but they had other plans.

 

According to him, Mr. and Mrs. Mellark have had their eye on Constance Payne for a while. She's a little older than Terry, but her family runs the general store in town. She will make the perfect match for the baker's oldest son.

 

I know that I’m young, but I’m no fool. I’ve thought about our situation long and hard, and I know what I want.

 

I can’t live my life under my family’s thumb. I can’t spend my days burdened with sorrow and remorse, wondering what my life could have been if only I had been brave enough to take a chance on love.

 

I understand what’s at stake. I know my life with you will be very different from the life I’ve known. I’ll have to leave everything and everyone behind and start over. But I’ve decided that I don’t mind.

 

I don’t care about Mother and Father and the rest of the Merchant Quarter.  All I care about is you.

 

All I want is for us to be together, because I believe that, by your side, I’ll be able to stand it all.

 

Dashiell, my love, you make me strong. You make me brave. You make me happy. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life being your wife.

 

Forever yours,

Lillian.

 

* * *

 

With a soft grunt, Katniss folds the letter and places it on top of the neat little pile she’s made on the kitchen table with the letters she’s already read.

 

Across from her, Peeta raises a questioning eyebrow. “You ok?”

 

She nods, pressing down on the pile of letters. “She mentions your parents.”

 

Blue eyes sparkle with curiosity. “She does?”

 

“Yeah. She says your dad was very understanding, and that she thinks your grandparents already had a replacement for her.”

 

Peeta blows over his teacup, nodding as he considers her words.

 

Katniss reaches for her own mug and takes a tentative sip. The tea is strong and sweet, just the way she likes it.

 

“Do you remember them?” she asks.

 

“My grandparents?”

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

Lowering his teacup, Peeta focuses on the dark liquid as he speaks. “Grandpa Mellark died when I was 6. I don’t really remember him.”

 

Letting go of his mug, Peeta leans back into his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks up. A sweet smile crosses his lips as he adds, “Grandma Mellark was nice. She was the one who taught me how to make those cheese buns you like so much.”

 

Katniss smiles. “She was?”

 

“Yeah. She loved to cook. Her flatbread with tomatoes and melted cheese was my favorite thing when I was a kid.”

 

“Did she live with you?”

 

He shakes his head. “She lived with her daughter. My aunt Lorelei was married to Madge’s uncle. They ran the sweet shop in town.”

 

The smile falls from Peeta’s lips. He reaches for his teacup once more.

 

Katniss doesn't push him. Talking about the old town is a lot harder for him than it is for her. His family wasn’t spared the day the bombs dropped over District 12.

 

After taking a sip, he adds, “She died before I was reaped.”

 

Katniss nods. She can tell from his tone that he thinks that’s a good thing.

 

She knows she should probably stop asking questions, but reading her parents’ letters has made her reconnect with her past, and now she’s curious about Peeta’s. “What about the Paynes?”

 

Peeta's shoulders sag as he releases the air from his lungs. “I only saw them at the shop. My mother made us go there once a week. We carried boxes and sacks of grain, stocked the shelves, cleaned the storehouse. It wasn’t bad. Rye liked it. He said he’d take the cold stockroom over the sweltering kitchen any day.”

 

The smile is back on his lips. Katniss knows how painful it is to go back in time like this, but talking about his brothers usually has a good effect on him.

 

Closing his eyes, Peeta slowly shakes his head. A sad chuckle escapes his lips. “Do you know what they did when I came back from the Games?”

 

Katniss swallows thickly. “No,” she manages.

 

There's no emotion in his words, but Peeta’s eyes are pained when they meet hers. “They sent me a gift basket with a printed card.”

 

A lump settles in Katniss’s throat. She remembers her mother coming home from one of her shopping trips carrying a basket like the one Peeta just described.

 

“They never came to Victors’ Village,” he adds, “and, other than treating me like a wealthy customer, they never really acknowledged the fact that their own grandson was a victor.”

 

Katniss huffs, evidently annoyed with Peeta's grandparents, but she keeps quiet. It's not her place to judge them. As far as she remembers, most people in District 12 hadn't known how to act around their two victors.

 

It hadn't bothered her at the time. She had been too busy hiding in the woods and in the Seam to care about anything at all. At night, her mother and Prim had protected her from the desolation and sorrow of coming back from the Games.

 

Her family was safe, nothing else had mattered.

 

But Peeta had been all alone; dealing with his pain while his family acted as if he was just another resident, ignoring the sideways glances of those who felt sorry for him, knowing he had been willing to die for a girl who wouldn’t even give him the time of day.

 

Sometimes she still can’t believe he forgave her after that.

 

“What about my grandparents?” she asks, suddenly eager to take his mind away from his family. “Did you ever meet them?”

 

Peeta nods. “I don’t think I ever went into their shop --Mother was always in charge of getting our medicine and ointments and stuff-- but they came to the bakery all the time. Your grandfather always brought a bag of honey drops for our sore throats in wintertime.”

 

Katniss turns her attention to her teacup. She’s never spent much time thinking about her maternal grandparents, but she has wondered about them. Who were these people who kept to their word; abandoning their only child just because she decided to follow her heart?

 

She’s always imagined them as cold and uncaring, --they must have been to turn their backs on their daughter the way they had-- but they were also responsible for the town’s wellbeing. They procured the remedies that cured children's colds and tended to their neighbors' wounds.

 

Her mother's knowledge and a part of Prim’s healing skills also came from them. So, they couldn’t have been all bad, after all.

 

“I broke the window to their backroom once.”

 

Startled by Peeta’s soft admission, Katniss looks up. “What?”

 

His cheeks are beet red as he elaborates. “It was right after I gave you the bread. I was having a bad day. I think something happened at school. I don’t remember what, but Mother was mad. I remember her yelling at me, telling me that I couldn’t go to town on market day because I had to work that weekend."

 

His eyes land on a knot on the wood. Absentmindedly, he runs his finger over it. “I left the bakery in a rush and took off running. When I finally stopped, I found that I was standing right behind the apothecary. Without even thinking, I picked up a pebble and threw it as hard as I could, releasing all my pent-up frustrations into that one motion."

 

"What happened?" Katniss breathes.

 

A sly smile curves his lips. “The window cracked. It shattered into a million pieces.”

 

Katniss’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “What did you do then?”

 

“I ran,” Peeta says through barely contained laughter.

 

“You ran?”

 

Peeta nods. “As fast as I could.” Sobering up, he admits, “I wasn’t proud of myself, but I figured that being cold for a few days was a minor discomfort compared to what you’d been going through.” His voice grows serious as he says, “They were partially responsible for your suffering, Katniss. I don’t think they were bad people, but they shouldn’t have been so unforgiving either.”

 

Unable to find words, Katniss nods.

 

A companionable silence falls over them as she considers Peeta’s story. It seems that, one way or another, they always end up in the same place; protecting each other.

 

Reaching over the table, Katniss takes his hand. “Thank you.”

 

Peeta frowns. “What for?”

 

Katniss shrugs. “For telling me all this," she says before shyly looking away. "For always having my back.”

 

Peeta tangles their fingers together and gives them a little tug. His eyes find hers, warming her soul with their tenderness and love. "Anytime, Katniss,” he whispers. "Anytime."

 

* * *

 

“Last minute weather alert.” The newscaster’s voice pours from the small radio flooding Katniss’s kitchen. “As predicted, a Category 5 hurricane has reached a group of islands just off the coast of District 4, and it’s making its way onto our shores.”

 

Alarmed, Katniss lets go of the knife she’s been using to cut the fruit for her breakfast and rushes to the radio. Her heart pounds madly against her ribcage as she turns the volume up.

 

“A state of high alert has been declared in District 4. Residents along the shoreline are being asked to evacuate. Shelters and supplies will be provided for them as soon as they reach the inland settlements,” the presenter rattles on.

 

Her heart drops. It’s only been a few months since the war ended. Most districts have been struggling to rebuild and regain some sense of normalcy, but they still have a long way to go.

 

Overall, District 4 wasn’t heavily impacted by the war, but this hurricane could be catastrophic for them.

 

The news report continues, “It’s still too early to assess the damages this natural disaster has caused on the neighboring territories, but our experts believe they are significant.”

 

Her eyes find Peeta. He’s standing on the other side of the kitchen island, hand frozen in mid-motion and eyes trained on the radio as he listens intently to the report.

 

“President Paylor and her officials have already initiated contact with the affected islands and are following the appropriate protocols to deal with this type of emergency,” the voice coming out of the radio explains. “So far, only the areas known as Puerto Rico and Saint Barthélemy have responded our president’s call, but our communications experts believe we’ll hear from some of the others in the next few hours.

 

“We’ll bring more updates as they become available,” the reporter signs off.

 

Soft music replaces the anchorman’s urgent voice.

 

Katniss releases a shaky breath and turns the volume back down.

 

Up until a few months ago, most people in Panem didn’t know about the existence of any other territories. In truth, they knew next to nothing about their own country.

 

Under President Snow’s regime, this hurricane would have gone by unmentioned, only those directly affected by it would have known of its existence. But now, everyone gets to be a part of it.

 

Katniss walks back to her cutting board, dragging her feet as she thinks about all the people who have lost their homes and their livelihood because of the violent tropical storm.

 

If she’s learned anything in the last few years, is how arduous the road to recovery can be, and how easy it is to lose everything you’ve worked for in the blink of an eye.

 

She finishes slicing an apple, trying to get back to her routine, but she can’t help wondering what kind of aid or resources her government is offering to those in need.

 

“I wish there was something we could do, you know, to help them out?” Peeta says, giving voice to her thoughts.

 

Katniss nods. With a sad smile, she adds her apple to the fruit salad Peta’s making.

 

A comfortable silence envelops them as they finish preparing their meal.

 

They’ve just sat down to eat when Peeta’s eyes light up. “You know what? I’m gonna call Effie, ask her if there’s anything we can do. Maybe we can send some food or medical supplies.”

 

Katniss stops buttering her toast and looks up at him. The determination in his eyes takes her breath away.

 

“You’re right,” she says, “Effie probably knows how to do that.” Katniss bites into her toast and munches thoughtfully for a moment. Suddenly, her eyes snap open. “I should call my mom! She’s nowhere near the coast, but it’s still District 4. She may know something too.”

 

* * *

 

Katniss bites her thumbnail, tapping her foot anxiously against the carpeted floor as she waits for her mother to answer the call.

 

Mrs. Everdeen picks up after the third ring. “Hello?”

 

“Mom?” Katniss answers as soon as she hears her mother’s voice. “How are you? Is everything ok in your area?”

 

Lillian’s light chuckle eases Katniss’s worry. “Yes, dear. Everything is fine. We’re too far inland. I don’t think the hurricane is going to touch us here.”

 

“Good,” Katniss says, tasting the relief in her own voice. “So, Mom, Peeta and I were wondering if there was anything we could do to help the victims. The news report mentioned shelters and supply centers. Do you know of any we could contact?”

 

“Yes, I do,” Lillian says. “As a matter of fact, I’m working on one of them right now. We’re collecting drinking water and food for those coming in from the coast. As soon as the hurricane passes, we’re going to try to reach some of the affected islands. I’m assembling a team to fly over there and provide first aid.”

 

“The president’s authorized that?”

 

“Yes. It was her idea, actually. She won’t jeopardize our safety, and she’ll take care of Panem’s needs first. But President Paylor wants to help wherever she can, Katniss.” After a short pause, Lillian adds, “I’ll get one of the administrators here to contact you. He’ll tell you how to make a donation, and he’ll answer any practical questions you might have. Is that ok?”

 

“Sure, that’s fine.” With the most pressing matter out of the way, Katniss takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the next part of the conversation. “Listen, Mom… there’s one more thing," she says, rubbing her sweaty palms over her thighs in an attempt to dry them. She really doesn’t want to talk about this, but she has no choice so, she pushes on. “You know how I’ve been cleaning and packing everything for my move?”

 

“Mm-hmm.” Lillian waits for Katniss to elaborate. When her daughter doesn’t speak again, she prompts, “How is that going, by the way? When are you moving?”

 

“Soon. Next week, probably. I’m just waiting for my bed to be delivered.” Although she knows her mom can’t see her, Katniss shakes her head to clear her thoughts.  “Anyway, I was clearing out your room when I found a… pillow… a small pillow.”

 

Even across the distance, Katniss hears her mother’s sharp intake of air. Lillian’s voice is strained when she says. “The letters.”

 

“Yeah,” Katniss whispers.

 

Silence settles over the line as mother and daughter wait for the information to sink in.

 

Katniss speaks first. “What would you like me to do? I could send them--,”

 

“Keep them,” Lillian interrupts, “I don’t want to risk losing them.” Her deep breath resonates against Katniss’s ear. “Listen, dear, I’ve been meaning to... Well, I'm thinking about going back to District 12 for the Winter Festival. I think I’m ready to see the new town, and… I’d love to spend a couple of days with you if that’s ok.”

 

With the soft warmth of a flickering candle, a spark of joy comes to life in Katniss’s chest. “Really?”

 

“Yes, darling. I’ve heard there’s going to be music and dancing, just like before. I’d love it if we could join the celebrations together. What do you say?”

 

“Sure, Mom, that sounds great.” As soon as she says the words, she knows she means them. It’s been years since they were close, but Lillian is the only family she has left and Katniss needs her in her life. “You can stay with us," she offers. "My bed is large enough, you can sleep with me.”

 

“Alright, Katniss, we’ll talk about it later, when everything’s a bit more settled.”

 

Katniss nods, she's about to say her goodbyes when Lillian asks, “Katniss, have you read them?”

 

A knot settles in Katniss’s throat. Unable to talk, she mumbles, “Mm-hmm.”

 

“That’s alright, darling,” Lillian soothes. “I’m glad you did. They’re a part of you as much as they’re a part of me. We’ll talk more about them when I’m there if you want.” The line goes quiet. A soft crackle fills the silence. “I’ve got to go now. I’ll call you as soon as I’m back and we’ll start planning my trip. Ok?”

 

Katniss nods. “Alright, Mom.” She’s about to hang up when she blurts out, “Hey, be safe, ok?”

 

“I will, Katniss, you too. Please, give my best to Peeta. Goodbye, dear.”

 

“Goodbye.”

 

Katniss places the telephone receiver back in its cradle. The ghost of a smile turns her lips.

 

The small girl who grew up in the Seam and explored the woods with her father couldn’t have imagined her life would turn out the way it did.

 

She’s gone through hell and back.

 

In the years since her father’s death, she’s learned more about misery, heartbreak, and loss than any person should.

 

Winning the Games showed her what she was capable of; that she could risk it all for those who matter.

 

In surviving the war, she finally understood that no one is ever truly safe; that there’s nothing we can do to stand in the way of fate.

 

And still, as she looks at Peeta working quietly in her kitchen, she dares to hope.

 

With Dr. Aurelius’s help, she’s begun to find purpose in her life. But, next to Peeta, she’s discovered meaning. By his side, every day seems a little bit brighter than the one before, and her long-forgotten dreams have begun to feel like a possibility.

 

She doesn’t know what the future holds for them. The girl who volunteered to save her sister, and the boy who was reaped on a hot summer day are long gone. They were broken and burned, replaced by two souls that have seen each other at their best and worst.

 

But she knows where they are now. She knows they’re allies, partners, friends; that her day doesn’t start until she sees him walking through the door, that her accomplishments aren't as sweet unless she shares them with him.

 

And, even though he hasn’t said anything, she knows he feels the same. She sees it in his smile when he comes home at night, and in his eyes when she catches him watching her; she feels it in his touch whenever he holds her hand, and in the way he wraps his arm around her when he walks by her side.

 

She still misses her father and Prim. She always will.

 

Sometimes she feels like the oldest 18-year-old in all of Panem; but that doesn’t stop her from pushing herself out of bed to go searching for something better, from thinking that life can be good again.

 

With lighthearted steps, Katniss walks over to her study. She grabs the stack of letters piled up on her desk and carefully slips them inside her mother’s worn pillow.

 

Tender hands press the pillow against her chest as she gently cradles her parent’s love in her arms.

 

_It’s time_ , she thinks, as a single tear runs down her cheek.

 

She wipes it away with a smile.

 

There's still a lot to be done. Long dark days and sleepless nights still await her, but she's not alone. She's got Peeta, and she's finally ready to take a page from her parent’s book and follow her heart.

* * *

The geographical placement of Panem’s districts in this fic comes from FanficAllergy and RoseFyre’s map, which you can find [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4809488).

 

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my sweet friend HPfanonezillion, for taking a look at this and the lovely notanislander for coming up with the perfect maiden name for Mrs. Everdeen.
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!
> 
> The Hunger Games Trilogy is the property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.


End file.
